Transformers: After
by JamesWritesStuff
Summary: Bumblebee left Sam Witwicky five years ago following the Autobots being hunted by the CIA. In the time since, Cybertron has returned to Earth’s orbit, and a whole new group of humans have joined up with the Autobots to rebuild after the Battle of Stonehenge. With Transformers accepted by the world, can Sam rekindle his relationship with Bee, or is it just a lost cause?
1. Remember

_Tranquility, California _

_June 10th, 2007 _

Sam Witwicky settled himself into the smooth grass and dirt terrain below his body. For the usual standards of weedy uncut grass that spread across fields of rolling hills, this wasn't bad.

But still, Sam wasn't fully comfortable.

He didn't think he would be for a very long time. It had been one week following the battle of Mission City (or "the Mission City incident" as the media called it) and the reverberations of Ironhide's heavy arm cannons, or the deathly growls of Megatron's vocal chords (vocal processors?), along with the many other sounds of alien robot war, still rang through Sam's head constantly.

It wasn't a good thing, obviously, but such a mental ailment was only made worse by all of the racket going on around Sam in his daily life; at home, in class, even just going for a mid-evening drive with Bumblebee and Mikaela on a chilly Saturday night.

Mikaela.

What should've been the biggest reminder of Mission City, and everything else surrounding those insane few days, was actually one of the only commodities in Sam's new life that calmed him.

That, along with the lovable 2006 Chevrolet Camaro known as Bumblebee (designation B-127 during the Great War of Cybertron, as he had later told Sam just a few days after Mission City).

Bumblebee, who lay in the grass on his back in similar fashion to Sam right next to him. Only a lot, lot bigger and made out of extraterrestrial metal.

Bumblebee didn't feel extraterrestrial, though, at least not when it came to his personality, interests, disinterests, etcetera.

All of the things that made humans… well, human.

Sam sighed, and looked over at his robot friend. "How you doing, Bee?" he asked quietly.

Bumblebee shifted his gaze from the stars and moon above, and towards Sam. "I'm alright, nobody worry about me," he cheerfully responded, sampling lyrics from Kenny Loggins' song "I'm Alright" as part of his whole "radio speak" gimmick.

The whole reason he had to do that was because somebody hurt Bumblebee. Probably many years ago, Sam thought. Those were the effects of war. Bumblebee (and Prime, Ironhide, Ratchet, even Jazz) knew that all too well.

And Sam was beginning to relate to Bee in that aspect.

Sam brushed aside these thoughts as Bumblebee began speaking again. "You seem down," the Autobot said, sampling dialogue from some movie or radio show that Sam didn't recognize. "Everything okay?"

Sam sat up slightly, and nodded. "Yeah, as good as it can be, I guess."

Bumblebee didn't have a movable mouth, but the saddened look in his eyes was just as noticeable as a wide frown.

"Tell me -- The truth," Bee continued. "You should be -- More open."

Sam gulped. It didn't get much more open than hanging out with his twenty foot robot friend in the middle of a public field.He may as well.

Sam sat up even further, sighed, then looked at Bumblebee.

"I think I'm having PTSD," he said. "From the war, the AllSpark, Megatron, all that."

Bee nodded. "I understand, -- Sam."

Sam smiled. "I'm glad you do. I know that…" he stumbled off of those last few words. "I know that you know what I'm feeling. You have to, right?"

"If you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never know me, ooh…" Bumblebee half-sarcastically responded with the Harold Melvin RB hit.

Sam laughed a bit. "Very funny, Bee." He looked down at the grass again. "But you know what I'm feeling, right?"

"Of course. -- I always have."

Sam squinted his eyes in confusion. "Always?"

"Ever since the war. -- It feels -- Infinite."

"I'm sorry, Bee," Sam muttered as he buried his gaze deeper into the ground. Bumblebee gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Sam looked back at him.

There was some joy in Bee's eyes now. "If you want my love, you got it, when you need my love, you got it, I won't hide it, I won't throw your love away," he said, appearing much more gleeful than he had these past few minutes.

Sam chuckled again. "Thanks, Bee. I appreciate it."

He laid back in the grass again, staring up at Earth's Moon, as well as the countless stars that peppered the dark skies above. Cybertron was up there somewhere.

Bumblebee's home was up there somewhere.

This moment felt like it would last forever. That's how Sam wanted it. It was probably how Bee wanted it, too.

So, the two did what they could to make that a reality.


	2. Inadequate

_Washington DC _

_Exactly Thirteen Years Later _

And now, it was June 10th, 2020.

Sam knew the date all too well. He was dreading it, in fact.

Today was the day that Ron and Judy Witwicky would come rolling into town, to him and Carly and their four-year old son Daniel.

Okay, maybe he was overexaggerating their arrival just a smidge, but the elder Witwickys had become even more animated and raucous once their young grandson was born. Sam remembered the day a little too vividly.

Carly was still getting rest in the hospital, and Ron and Judy had arrived just minutes after Sam called them over, flowers, balloons, and a gift basket of baby clothes in-hand.

What else occurred that day?  
Not much else.

Bee was still around to see Daniel's birth, at least. If the CIA and their little Transformer-hunting group hadn't come around…

Sam sighed, thinking back to then. It was the single happiest few hours of his life when he saw his son for the first time. An otherworldly feeling.

Then, Bee had to leave the Witwicky clan behind just a few short months later. At the very least, it was a bittersweet goodbye, but for the remainder of that night Sam locked himself away in the guest bedroom of he and Carly's house. Obviously, Daniel was but a toddler back then, so he didn't understand.

Daniel still didn't understand now. He would in due time. Sam knew that. But even so, it was difficult when the only person he could possibly confide in was Carly.

And as much as Sam didn't like it (though he reluctantly accepted it), she had gotten over Bumblebee years ago.

Sam let out another, deeper sigh, and ascended from his and Carly's bed. She was still asleep, and had every right to be, given that it was 5:30 in the morning and not even the President of the United States had gotten his morning coffee yet.

But Sam wanted to impress. His parents, that is. Long-gone were the days when Sam was oh so desperate to impress people like Trent DeMarco, Leo Spitz, and Bruce Brazos.

Sam Witwicky grew out of that… strange, slightly (maybe more than slightly) neurotic phase of his adolescence, and became something greater. He was his own man now. With his own career, his own house, his own wife, his own child, and his own…

His own car.

Some days, especially the darker, more dreary ones, Sam wondered whether or not his current state of happiness was partially thanks to Bee (and all other Cybertronians) breaking contact with him and essentially driving Sam out of that wild, crazy life forever.

Sam always pushed those thoughts back into the pit where they belonged. Bumblebee was his friend, and always would be.

Their bond was eternal.

There he went, thinking about Bumblebee again. No way, Sam thought to himself, I'm done with that, I need to be.

Thus, that state of mind was pushed back again.

Sam walked over to the fairly large closet which stood before the bed, and pulled the two doors back. He needed something nice to wear. If he wasn't in tip-top shape (along with Carly, though to a lesser degree) he knew his mother would be nagging him all day about his lackluster fashion sense, especially since it had been over a year since they visited with each other. He could hear Judy in his head already.

"Simple," Sam muttered to himself, speaking out loud the style of suit that he wanted to wear to breakfast and lunch with his parents and wife. "Simple works, simple is stylish." He clicked his tongue a bit to quell the nerves building up inside of him. Ron and Judy surely wouldn't be here for another four hours, but every second breezed past Sam's head.

Finally, after a few further minutes of decision-making, Sam picked a good-looking suit that also fit exceptionally well: navy blue coat and pants, white shirt with vertical blue pinstripes, and a nice golden tie to round out the color scheme.

There was no way Judy would give Sam a hassle over this.

Simple is stylish.

Once Sam had his look picked out for the day, he brushed his teeth, showered up, and had some quick breakfast (a single bowl of oats with strawberry bits in it).

By the time he placed his bowl and spoon in the then-empty kitchen sink, it was already 6:45 AM, and the final preparations on Sam's suit (smoothing out any creases, adjusting his tie, etcetera) were made.

And then, Carly came downstairs, all dressed up and ready to go.

Sam hurriedly looked up from his phone. "Oh, you're up early!" he exclaimed with both happiness and surprise.

Carly sat next to him at the table. "And you were up even earlier," she responded, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but also the detectable scent of worry.

Sam nervously laughed. "Uh, yeah, just wanted to be ready for mom and dad, is all."  
Carly saw through Sam's BS. Always did. She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I know how your parents are. Mine were the same way when I was a teenager--"

Sam cut her off right there, scoffing. "Yeah, when you were a teenager." He took his free hand and rested it against his temples. "Listen, I don't like that my parents treat me like I'm still sixteen anymore than you do. But it's something I've gotta live with."

Sam looked out of the window near him, bright morning sunlight blasting through the windows. "I just…" Sam continued, stopping and then sighing.

"What is it, Sammy?" Carly asked gently.

Sam jolted his head back up from its slump. "I just don't wanna be inadequate."

Carly smirked a little, standing up from the table. "Believe me, Sam, inadequacy is the absolute least of your worries." She strolled over to the fridge and began digging through it for something. The jug of milk, to be precise. She then got a cup and filled it up with the liquid.

As Carly put everything away and walked past Sam again, she said, "It's just the devil on your shoulder making you feel that way. Listen to the angel every once in a while." She continued up the stairs.

"Who's the milk for?" Sam asked as she was halfway up.

"Daniel wanted me to get him some. I think you woke him up while you were getting ready." Without another word, Carly went over to Daniel's room.

Sam mentally slapped himself. He couldn't even get dressed for the day without waking his son up too early in the day.

Inadequate.

Once again, that was how he felt.


End file.
